Unspoken
by Cygnet Shearwater
Summary: A collection of scenes featuring the unspoken thoughts of Daine/Numair during RotG. Lots of foreshadowing and nearly-fluff, as well as a bit of hopeless agnst!  Seventh chapter added. R/R apreciated!
1. Headaches

**Chapter One--Headaches**

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Authors Note: Chapter One, featuring mainly the thoughts of Numair shortly after the collapse of the barrier, still in the palace. Oh, how I love Numair…sweet, ridiculously self-sacrificing, itty-bit angsty, and oh-how-delicious Numair. ahem. I'm done now. Swear. 

Disclaimer: I own neither the plot, setting, characters, or any other subject pertaining to this ficlet. It is for my own (and others) twisted enjoyment. Please don't sue.

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He sat in his study, elbows on the desk, forehead in hand. His long legs were cramped under the desk, and when she stood up he would undoubtedly have a large red spot where his hand had propped up his head for so long. There were large dark circles under his eyes, caused by tension, worry, lack of sleep, and despair. 

Although his desk was strewn with layers of papers, parchment, and texts of every barrier spell known to man, his heart was not in his studies. That alone was grounds for concern. He found his thoughts, as they had so often these past days, staying to his young student; a place where they most certainly should not have been. He sighed heavily in frustration, shaking his head as if to clear his mind, for perhaps the tenth time that day. And as with his previous attempts, to no avail.

This was a problem. This was most certainly a problem. This had to stop; he had more serious concerns at the moment. Since the fall of the barrier days ago, they'd already seen mass increases of Immortals raining down on them, and it could only get worse; that barrier had fallen for a reason. He had far more pressing matters to deal with than a teenage girl! He immediately hated himself for the thought. No. Not _a_ teenage girl. Daine. His student. His friend. His magelet.

_But, it_ is_ true_, argued that small, stubborn, and gods-cursed logical pat of his mind. The fate of the realm was thrown up in the air the moment the barrier collapsed. Now was not the time for distractions.

How long had it been now? Three hours, at least, he'd been locked up in his study. He still had his breakfast plate somewhere, never having taken the time to dispose of it properly. The sun had risen high in the sky, streaming in through the windows. He focused his attention on the book in front of him.

_The magical properties of the Barrier stretching between Realms has thought to be a byproduct of a version of the_ Impasse _encantum, further enhanced by the power of…._That was perhaps the twentieth time he had read that sentence today. Focus! _The magical properties of the Barrier stretching between Realms has thought to be a byproduct of a version of the_ Impasse _encantum, further enhanced…._His eyes continued to follow the print, his thoughts already drifting elsewhere.

Her pale blue eyes, cloudy and grey, storming through those lashes of hers…her thick, smoky, chestnut curls that so _tempted him; oh to run a hand through her hair. Her stubborn chin and passionate nature; oh was it any wonder he loved her?! _

For a moment he weighed his options. _Tell her!_ His heart screamed. _Just tell her, she deserves to know! _But there was always the rebuttal. _And what would she think then? She could either refuse me point blank, or worse; believe herself in love with me. She is so young and naïve, it would be so easy to delude her. I don't want her that way. And even if she wasn't deceived, that is hardly a better option. She would only be disgusted. I am _fourteen years _her elder! I would lose her. I would lose my Magelet. _He'd been through this already, a thousand times. It was a full-scale war, between his heart and his mind; he feared whichever side won, he'd never be fully happy. He could only go with the best for her. There was no other choice. She could never find out.

He sighed in frustration. He loved her. With all of his heart, he loved her. It was a twisting knife in the gut to think she would never know, she would never return his affections. But he couldn't tell her. She was his best friend in the world; and if it meant living forever, growing old and watching her fall in love with someone younger, could he do that? The knife jerked upwards in his stomach with the thought of it. He would try. For her, he would walk through fire. He would try.

Leave it to fate that the object of his adorations would walk through the door at that moment.

"Numair? I brought lunch, you missed the bell…I figured you'd still be working, but you might have been hungry by now." Her voice was light, but there were undertones of worry in it too. She walked over to his desk, and cleared a little area to put the plate. That in itself was hard work; the clutter was layers thick of parchment and books, and she didn't want to disturb anything.

All of his daydreams hadn't done her justice. Against every ounce of will power in his body, his eyes lingered over her slender frame, her stormy eyes, those soft lips he yearned to devour in his own. No matter she looked disheveled and smelled faintly of the animals she so loved to work with; his young student was by far the most lovely creature he'd ever set eyes on. Damn it all, why did he have to fall for her? Of all the ladies at court, he had to fall for the one woman he could never have. Daine was untouchable, but oh, how he wanted her.

_Snap _out_ of it_! He commanded himself fiercely. _There she is, brought you _lunch_, and you haven't said two words since she walked in!_

"…thank you, Magelet." _Pitiful_. He slapped himself mentally, and resolved to eat his meal. At least that gave him an excuse not to talk.

The girl smiled slightly, as she looked over her friend and teacher. He had the half-dazed look he normally wore if he'd been studying far too long, and a red splotch on one cheek where he had obviously been resting his hand. In normal circumstances, she would have laughed, but now she felt like crying. This war had just begun, and they were all running ragged. "Poor Numair. You look tired."

_I'm not the only one_, he though sadly. Her hair was tousled, and clothes obviously a little worn. There were dark circles under her eyes; she'd been as busy as the rest of them, lately. His mouth quirked upwards in a half-smile; he reached out to pluck a small grey feather out of her hair. "Scouting duty?" He asked.

Daine smiled sheepishly, and ran a hand through her errant curls, half expecting to find more feathers hidden there. "I've been looking for Immortals, trying to see how far off they are." He nodded. "I'd best get back, I just wanted to be sure you weren't starving yourself."

She made her way to the door, before turning to look at him. "Try to take care of yourself, Numair. You'll be no help to Jon if you forget to eat and have to spend the war in the infirmary. Duke Baird will have enough to do soon as it is." Her words were spoken gently, in teasing, but they held a serious note as well.

After he heard the click of the door shutting on her way out, the man at his desk groaned aloud. There was no doubt in his mind that this would be the hardest thing he had ever done. How in the name of Shakith was he supposed to go on as her friend, her _teacher_, for crying out loud! When it took conscious, physical effort to restrain himself?

Oh, Mithros have mercy.

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Authors Note: Well, there goes chapter one, hope you enjoyed! The next one will have more of Daine. Please review, they make me smile! Even criticism would be welcomed, I need advice to keep writing! 


	2. Fireside Reflections

**Chapter Two--Fireside Reflections**

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Authors Note: Chapter Two up, takes place in an anonymous cave in the Divine Realms. Features thoughts of both Daine and Numair, unspoken emotions, and a nightmare. Enjoy! 

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. All belongs to Tamora Pierce. Characters. etc.

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The fire light flickered throughout the cave, an occasional pop and a spark flew out, or a log collapsed seemed to be the only sound. It was well into nighttime by now, and outside the little rock dwelling, stars were out in abundance. The pale, silver light of the moon filtered in through the opening just a bit, but for the most part the velvet blackness of night enveloped the space. The air was heavy and still; not quite peaceful, but rather like wary anticipation. 

The girl by the fire lay awake, liquid blue eyes reflecting the orange glow of the flames. Her pale skin was awash with the flickering light, reveling dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, and a sad weariness in her face that had not been there months before. Although she was surrounded by the warm, sleeping bodies of her furred friends, the girl could not find sleep herself.

"Numair?" She asked softly, uncertain whether her lanky friend was yet asleep. Her voice was scarcely above a whisper, and cracked from lack of use.

"Yes, Magelet?" His own voice was equally soft, the low, gentle murmur she had come to love. The sound was the voice of her teacher, and her closest friend. That voice meant safety, warmth, and friendship. It had soothed and comforted her when she was new to Tortall and unsure of her place in this new world. And recently, that voice had begun to have very different reactions to her.

What was she saying again? Truthfully, she had just wanted to hear him speak. To know he was there, just on the other side of the dying fire, that was reassurance enough. But…now that she had his attention…

"Numair, when do you think it will end? I mean…I'm just so tired of it all."

He knew exactly what she meant. They had been wandering for months now, and even a whole night's sleep was hard to come by. Rarely did a week go by when they weren't forced to fight off some foe, or escape from another of Ozorne's allies. With the barrier down, they were cropping up everywhere. Himself, he could handle it. But Daine…it wrenched his heart seeing the exhaustion on her face, the weariness in the daily routine they had settled into. In another time, she would have been at court, going to balls and frolicking with the horses at the palace, meeting young men her own age and living like a normal 16 year old girl.

But he supposed that was the problem. A normal 16 year old girl would not have fled from her village in Galla, lived among wolves, been hunted by her own people, and gone on to make friends among a new people as the greatest Wildmage in history. His Daine was not a normal girl. That was probably why he loved her. And although he hated to admit it to himself, although he could see what this war was doing to her, he had a hard time imagining what he would do if she wasn't by his side.

Realizing that he still had not answered, he sighed heavily. So much he wanted to tell her, and so little he actually could. "I honestly don't have an answer to that, Magelet. No one does. Even with all the reasons we must continue fighting, with everything we love up at stake, it does grow wearisome. Hang in there, Daine; it will be over some day." _And I couldn't bear it if you weren't here with me. I wouldn't have the courage to face a lone threat without you at by back, knowing that I had to, for you, if nothing else. I couldn't face fighting this Gods-Cursed war even to save all the realms if I knew you wouldn't be there in Tortall when it was over. So please, my sweet, lovely Magelet; hold on. Just a while longer yet, and life might return to normal._

None of this he said, for fear of what she might have thought, of what she might have felt. For his did need her, far more than what was healthy. He couldn't bear to lose her, even as his friend. He knew that this course was for the best, for them both, but still the unspoken words burned through his soul, and he was certain she could hear them echoing in the cave.

She lay on her side, curled up among her nest of friends, listening to his voice. It was a strange sensation, not being able to see him through the flickering flames that warmed them both, but his voice reached her beautifully, whispering for her ears alone. And that alone kept her going. She fought for more than that, of course. She had friends back in the mortal realms, and a home that accepted her. She'd found a country with endless acceptance, it seemed; a love of freedom and individuality that was worth fighting for alone. But if it wasn't for the man on the other side of those dying embers, she wasn't sure if any of that would matter. Yes, they were fine things, and needed to be preserved, but would she be able to go on without Numair? She couldn't imagine a life without him by her side. How easy it was to put on a brave face all these trying months, knowing he had her back, and would support her, whatever any one else thought. He was her reason for going on, although she knew she would never be able to confess it. He was her friend, and teacher. It was immature and foolish of her to depend so heavily on a friendship that would never, could never be more than it was. But rationalizing hadn't stopped these feelings thus far; she doubted it would do any good now.

She snuggled down deeper into her nest of animals, and sighed. "I know, Numair. And I will. It's just hard, keeping on, not knowing when it'll end. But it's got to happen, we knew it was coming. We've got friends that need fighting for, and Realms that need defending. You hang on too. It'll be over soon enough." Her voice faded into the inky night and the flames flickered away to coals between them. _I know we've got to fight it, this war we're in. There are things worth fighting for, and I won't let them go without a fight. But promise you won't leave me, Numair. I don't think I could do it without you. Say you'll always be here with me, just an arms length away. _Her own unspoken thoughts lulled her into sleep, and though it was a good length of time afterwards, her swarthy friend soon followed suit.

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In his dream, they were in the clearing, deep in the forest, where they had first seen the undine. Had it really been four years ago? He was sitting on a long, skimming through the pages of a text written in an old, forgotten language. His semi-conscious self realized it was not a language he knew, but his dream-self apparently was not aware of this. His Magelet was sprawled on the ground, conversing with a woodchuck. She seemed to be deep in conversation with him. Trying to focus on the words on the page, and not his entrancing young student, his eyes re-read the page again, not taking in a word of the strange language. His thoughts always returned to Daine.

He turned the page. Something was wrong. A large, decorative square was outlined in the center of the parchment, but there was nothing in it. As he tried to focus, bits of ink seemed to appear in the square. Oh yes, something was definitely wrong. He tried to catch Daine's attention, but she couldn't hear him. Frantic, he looked down at the page. The ink was fiery red, and the image depicted was now clear. A stormwing, with many thin braids, smeared eyeliner and a mocking expression. A face he knew only too well. Ozorne, but what…? He looked up from his book in a panic. Daine lay too-white on the ground, her blood seeping into the dirt. In front of her lay a stormwing feather.

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He awoke drenched in sweat, something between a scream and a sob seemed to be lodged in his throat. Daine. He had to be sure that she was alright. Sitting up, he crept over to where she lay, kneeling in front of her bedroll. So many furry body's…ah. Those wondrous smoky curls only belonged to his Magelet. He reached out, gently brushing a stray curl off her forehead. _Oh, Merciful Mother, this girl could rival even you in beauty_, he thought as he desperately tried to outride the flood of emotions that swamped his body. How peaceful she looked in sleep. It made his heart ache to think how long it had been since he had seen her this relaxed in her waking state. "Sleep well, my sweet." The whispered endearment echoed throughout the cave, and it took an extreme amount of willpower to leave her side, and crawl back to his own bedroll, and the other side of the ashes.

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Authors Note: reviews would be greatly appreciated, and would help me finish the third chapter sooner. Featuring...Temptation Lake. That should be fun...evil smile. 


	3. Temptation

**Chapter Three--Temptation**

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Authors Note: Thank you all sooo much for all your reviews! You have no idea how happy they made me! I am also severely sorry for how long this chapter took me to put up. I ran low on muse, and you know how hectic this time of year is anyways. I appreciate all your reviews. The double-description in chapter one has been fixed; thank you to cheeseycraziness for alerting me to it. And to bookworm.amm, this chapter contains a bit more of Daine's point of view. Starling rising; I completely agree, Numair should have stayed, but agnsty almost-fluff is so much fun to write! Hope you all like it, and keep the reviews coming!

Disclaimer: I own none of it. My creativity and imagination are exponentially too weak to come up with anything so wonderful as the characters, setting, and even the plot. Character manipulation is my own.

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A soft silver glow bloomed suddenly and vanished, revealing a curious looking creature. A furred, webbed, billed, beaver-esque looking animal, with the bill and feet of a duck. We might call him a platypus; he preferred 'duckmole.' The anomalous creature waddled to the lake before him, sniffing cautiously at the silver, quietly lapping waters. The beauty alone of the lake along ought to warn visitors that perhaps this lake was a bit out of the ordinary.

If that failed to alert them; its name certainly should. A night beside Temptation Lake guaranteed you safety for the while, but a drink taken from the water guaranteed you a restless night indeed. The duckmole sniffed at the water, and was soon joined by another flash of silver light; revealing this time a large badger. _All is good?_ The badger asked.

_It appears alright…but I trust little now. Chaos is building; this would not be the first time she has disobeyed the guidelines set for her. We must caution the Mortals doubly so not to venture near the lake. _The mind-voice of the duckmole replied gravely, as both Gods backed away from the lake.

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The two aforementioned Mortals were readying themselves for the night they would spend beside the lake. The girl set out food and searched for wood to kindle a cook fire, while the man set aside their belongings and proceeded to ward the camp. It was a habit they had settled into years ago. She selected a small leather pack of dried soup mix, and began to boil water for their supper. As she worked, she watched her friend out of the corner of her eye.

He was lost in his own, circling their camp and muttering under his breath. On normal days, he wouldn't need such foolishness, but tonight he would take no chances. Not even the Divine Realms were safe in these troubled times, and he mistrusted the lake. Unaware of his friend's watchful scrutiny, he continued his work.

Perhaps it was her exhausted imagination; her weary state of mind caused by weeks of sleepless nights and harried dreams of story book monsters; but she had recently found herself inadvertently sneaking glances at her tall teacher. While they rode, when he was deep in meditation, or when he was working and unaware of her lingering eye; she would chances a glimpse his way. At first she told herself that it was worry that caused these antics; mere concern for her friend as they traveled the Realms for months on end that compelled her to look on that he was faring well.

And that was well and good; but then, what caused the nervous flutter in her stomach when he looked her way; and met her watchful gaze? Was that concern as well? Or furthermore, what of when their arms brushed as they were passing the ladle to stir breakfast in the morning? Was it innocent worry that prompted dreams of herself in his arms, as she caught the few moments sleep she could?

The cause of her contemplations paused from his circling, looking up to see her pale blue eyes curiously looking into his own, darker set. He gave her the tiniest of smiles before continuing his work. She immediately smothered the warm tingling sensations that smile had brought her, and resumed her attentions to the soup. _I'm just tired, s'all. A good rest would cure me of this foolishness. Once we get home, we'll have all the rest we'd want for._

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Dusk was falling heavily over the lake, and the many stars glistened in the sky. The warm circle of stones glowed faintly around the two as the settled into their bedrolls for the night. Bellies warm with the over-rich food, the pair snuggled deeply under the blankets to ward off the chill. The girl shifted restlessly beneath her blanket, twisting to and fro as she sought to get comfortable. The silence rang in her head, roaring like a gong. The bite of the night air cause goose-bumps to rise on her skin, where under normal circumstances she would have been fine. Her cloak and blanket were wrapped around her tightly; but so much was amiss. She heard no animal voices in her head; these being the Divine Realms. Her bedroll was empty save for herself, and her mind kept drifting back to the Mortal Realms; where her bedroll would have been full of warm, furry bodies, and she would have no cause to shiver. The emptiness of both bedroll and mind weighed heavy on her soul, and she sighed in frustration; trying to coax her miserable mind into slumber.

The man who lay beside her was having no easier time sleeping. Painfully aware of the woman next to him, it troubled him deeply to notice how long she lay awake; tossing and turning restlessly. He knew she missed her animal friends, and would occasionally catch her rubbing her ears, as if that would help the echoing silence in her head. It disturbed him that he could do nothing to help her, nothing to ease her troubles. They had both borne more than their share of discomforts these past months, but how gladly would he triple his own, if only to make her burden slightly less.

Next to him, she shivered and snuggled deeper into her bedroll. He mimicked the motion, pulling his own blanket up to his chin. The night was cool, as he had anticipated, and he was glad for the circle of stones he had spelled to ward off the cold. His gaze flickered over to his young student. The young woman lay askew, her blankets twisted around her, her brow creased in a frown. Her full mouth was puckered in a pout, and he dragged his eyes away quickly as she shifted yet again. He sent more of his gift in to heat the stones, and tried desperately not to think of more pleasant ways to stay warm. Ways that involved them sharing the two cloaks and blankets, her small body pressed flush against his own, hands tangling in her curls, passionate fire darkening those huge blue eyes that haunted his dreams, and heated kisses that chased away the cold.

He clenched his hands into fists until his nails bit into his palms, remaining so while he forced his breathing back to normal, and the forbidden thoughts from his mind. Taking another deep breath, he chanced another quick glance at his magelet. She was curled into a ball under her thin blanket, body racking with shivers. She was so much smaller than he was; he couldn't imagine how much greater the cold affected her. He thought about extending and arm to her, gathering her close and tucking her beneath his own blanket. But no. She might get the wrong idea, or rather; the correct idea. She might see pass his desire to protect her, and glimpse the whole truth of his love he had taken such pains to hide away.

He suppressed a shiver of his own. _Daine, come here_. That's all it would take, a whispered invitation that she may or may not accept. At least she'd have the option of being warmer. _Daine, come here_. No, he couldn't do that. Couldn't risk ruining their platonic relationship on the chance it might appear something more. "Daine, come here." Oh, Gods no! Had he really spoken aloud? He couldn't have, but that hoarse whisper was far to real to be imagined.

During the course of his contemplations, he had turned sideways to face her. The girl turned over to look at him, those stormy blue eyes staring at him for just a second before flickering to sheer gratitude as she scurried over to where he lay. Tucking herself against him before he had a chance to react, to change his mind; she nestled herself close beneath both sets of blankets. Hesitating, and cursing his mutinous voice and the small, smug voice in his head, the man lifted an arm and placed it gently over her waist, pulling the blankets around her. His chin was tucked atop her head, her face nestled into his neck. His heart hammered in his ears as he fought the urge to make his past idle imaginings a reality.

He girl sighed contentedly, and snuggled against him. "Thank you, Numair." Her voice was a soft puff of breath against his throat, and he clenched his jaw and silently cursed the Temptation for which this lake was named.

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Authors Note: It may be a little while before I can get up the next chapter, what with the Holidays coming and all. But you never know...it's amazing what reviews can do to boost motivation and muse. The next chapter I have planned a bit, but after that it's a little grey. Suggestions would be loved! Next chapter; in which Numair gets soft for a bunny rabbit and Daine has an epiphany. Go ahead now, click the little review button...


	4. Thoughts of You

**Chapter Four--Thoughts of You**

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Authors note: Woot! (which is an acctual word now, may I add) I finished this next chapter before the Holidays! It's my longest yet, almost 2000 words! Featuring quite a bit of Daine's thoughts this time, including her long awaited epiphany. It always kind of bothered me that she just miraculously realized her feelings for Numair when he kissed her, so...I made this little chapter leading up to it. Also some sweet Numair-stuff involving a bunny! Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. Don't sue.

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The afternoon heat wore on as the pair plodded wearily along the path. Occasionally they would stop to take a quick drink from their quickly-emptying canteens, or to check the map. The hours wore on as they marked the scant progress they had made. Silver blooms of light flashed in and out as the Badger and the Duckmole ventured ahead and returned to their charges off and on.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, and exhaustion became known, it was decided that they should stop and rest for lunch, and wait for the hottest part of the day to pass. They chose a seat beneath the sole tree in sight; a hugely leafed oak tree that looked as if it had stood for eons.

Daine plopped herself down, stretching out her legs in front of her. Groaning inwardly as she felt how light her canteen was, she spared a small sip before leaning her head back against the trunk of the old tree.

Numair followed suit, settling down beside her. His own canteen was even lower than Daine's; the air making empty sloshing sounds as he moved it to his lips. He wiped his brow on his sleeve, and ventured a wane smile at his student.

"Magelet, we're about a day or so away from Mauler's swamp. It's far to hot to make any progress for at least another hour. We may as well use the time to catch a bit of rest. After the night he had spent recently at Temptation Lake, he had found himself on the shorter end of alertness. The dratted lake was well deserving of it's name, and the night spent beside it's shores was one of the least restful he had experienced since the war had begun. Not, he added, that it wasn't altogether the most pleasant he had enjoyed in a far greater time, but not entirely of any help to his already exhausted nervous system. Daine, he had been pleased to note, had slept the night through, and not mentioned it since.

Daine had been rummaging in their packs, and produced a roll and slab of cheese for both. Handing one to her tall friend, she smiled. "Eat this, 'fore you fall asleep. We'll need the energy to get as far as we can by nightfall." Correctly interpreting his weary posture, she ate her own meal in silence. Just as she herself was drifting off to sleep, she felt the warm weight of a body curled against her side that she hadn't felt since leaving the Mortal realms. Startled, she sat up and smiled at her guest.

A dusky brown canine stared at her with wise brown eyes. _A coyote_, she remembered. _We had them in Snowsdale_. She smiled and held up a hand to her new friend.

The coyote god licked at her fingers before nestling in by her side. "_Your companions, the Badger and the Duckmole felt you were lonesome for the People. They are busy safeguarding your way. We have come to give you company_." The girl looked around and saw several other gods of her People friends had joined them. A white lynx had settled herself regally at the girl's feet, and a large raccoon curled up besides her head.

Daine grinned happily and settled down against the tree. "That was very kind of them. But...it's so hot here, and you all are from places so much cooler. Aren't you uncomfortable?" Already thought was growing difficult, her eyelids sinking lowly. Her mind seemed to weigh the equivalent of Cloud, but she wanted to be sure her new friends were not endangering themselves.

"_Hush, pup. The Badger was right; you worry about foolish things. We are Gods, heat doesn't bother us. It is necessary for you to return to the Mortal Realms, and you need to be well rested. We take it upon ourselves to ease your journey, and would not do it if it were at cost to ourselves._" The coyote, who seemed to be her spokesman scolded her gently.

"Daine!" Numair's voice was soft, and filled with awe. The girl turned quickly to him, only to see the man sitting with a large, snowy white rabbit besides him. The rabbit cocked it's head to one side, as if asking what the matter was. Numair just stared back at his; dark chocolate eyes blinking in surprise.

"_Why so surprised, Stork-man?_" The rabbit asked as it hopped closer. "_You are friend to the girl-who-is-People, who is also our friend. The People know you, and trust you for that. Unless you do not wish for my company?_"

"No, stay please. I didn't meant disrespect, I was just surprised. Mostly animals prefer Daine's company. He smiled gently at his Magelet. Looking back cautiously at the rabbit, he stratched out a hand to run gently along his back. "_So soft!..._" he whispered happily. He tried to pass the event off nonchalantly, but his voice betrayed how pleased he was that Daine's friends approved of him. _Not like that_, he scolded himself mentally. _Never like that! They of any can't know of those feelings for her, or she would know straight off_! His worried thoughts rambled on in the pattern they had devised over the past weeks, until the rabbit nudged his nose into his side.

"_Foolish mortal man._" The rabbit spoke to Numair's ears alone, for which he was profoundly grateful. "_Worry not; the People stay out of human affairs such as you toil over. Yes, we love the Wildmage; but your emotions are yours to choose to give away._" The listener was giddy with relief, as well as a brief flash of horror as he realized that if these animal friends of Daine could guess, who else might have ventured an idle wondering? He barely heard the rabbit's next words. "..._As silly and misguided as your worries may be._" Shell shocked, the mage simply shook his head, convinced he must have heard incorrectly. Besides; what would rabbits know of such things? And as he drifted off to rest, beneath the shade of the First Tree, in the midst of the blistering humidity of high noon, the man could have sworn he heard a rabbit chuckle.

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A few feet away, stretched leisurely out against the same tree, Daine herself was deep in thought. Thoughts, it so happened, about her teacher. Earlier that week she had contemplated the growing amount of time she spent thinking of him. She had passed it off as mere concern for her friend. And certainly, there was plenty to worry about. Even aside from this hellish war, Numair had changed since the fall of the barrier. She couldn't name what, or why; but she noticed the difference. He seemed so much quieter, so much less open with her. She regarded him as the one human she could trust completely, and it hurt that he no longer felt that he could trust _her_ with whatever was bothering him. It was not only mental seclusion that had changed, however. The extra space he continually made sure was between them did not escape her attention. Not only did the developed distance between them cause worry about her friend; but at the back of her mind was always the nagging suspicion that her increased awareness of the tall mage had to be more than mere concern. Her mind buzzed and stomach flipped whenever she thought of him; she lost her train of though whenever they accidentally touched. And the underlying suggestions these ponderings brought to light worried her far more than anything else.

Throughout the many months since the fall of the Barrier, they had been wandering the realms, and doing everything in their power to return to their country and friends; to fight the war the raged even here among the Gods. Each day was fraught with difficulties and dangers. Her mind should be focused solely on the task at hand; concentrating on staying alive, and watching her back, as well as those of her friends. How well she knew that the slightest distraction could mean her life, or someone else's. Why then, were her thoughts taking such dangerous diversions?

Her earlier contemplations had led her to uncomfortable reasonings, made all the more troublesome by the hard core of truth that lay inside them. Perhaps those nagging suspicions would not have bothered her, had they not struck a cord of truth in her mind. And so she found he had to admit; or be lying to herself, (_and truly_, she thought; _it's fair stupid to try to fool your own self_!) that perhaps, just maybe, her thoughts towards her teacher were just the slightest bit more than friendly. And this realization fully irked her.

_I am_ not _a young girl, to have a foolish crush on her teacher! He is my friend, for years! Yes, I am aware that all the ladies at court swoon over him at balls. I am _also_ fully aware that he has more than his fair share of court beauties to occupy his time! And that nearly all of those ladies fit into the same category: mature, beautiful, voluptuous blondes! Of which I am certainly _not.

Certainly, she knew that Numair could have any one of the ladies at court, she had seen the way they sighed after him at balls. And admitting to herself; she couldn't well blame them. He was quite the picture, even without all the wealth and power that she knew was also a factor to many. She also knew that he would never look twice at a girl like her for anything but a student, or a friend. Therefore, there was only one thing to do. Ignore these confusing, and obviously futile emotions that could only be the product of sleepless nights and a frazzled nervous system, and squash them beneath her boot.

_Besides_, she thought bitterly. _No respectable would ever want Sara's bastard_. The cruel taunts of the villagers in Snowsdale still haunted her thoughts, and these words were made all the more painful now that they had a face to them. Numair was by far her best human friend; perhaps her very best friend. She prized his trust and respect above all else; and to think she might lose that if she confessed her new feelings for him…it was a risk she was not willing to take.

And yet...she could not shake the look of awe and joy he had shown when the rabbit explained how the people felt about him. Daine, of course, had known; but had not known it meant so much to him. She remembered his happiness that the rabbit would choose to stay with him, and her mouth betrayed a sad smile at remembering a whisper she had overheard among the court gossips. "_I wonder if her men have to tolerate the beasts in bed with her as well…I can't imagine she would keep them for very long, were that the case. Not that she'd be able to anyway._" It didn't appear as though Numair would mind sharing a bed with a few furry mammals; should the situation arise…she immediately scolded herself for the thought. This had to stop. She could not keep brewing like this on things that were never meant to be. And yet, as she drifted off to a heat-induced sleep, her mind would not let go of the image of his perfect face, eyes alit with awe and delight as he stroked the rabbit by his side.

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Authors Note: Alright, that's it for now. The Holidays are coming up so I won't have much time. I also have no idea what to write the next chapter about, so suggestions would be more than helpful...(hint hint). Keep up the reviews, they help me write faster!


	5. Feathered

**Chapter Five--Feathered**

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Authors Note: I'm really and truly sorry about how long this took to get up, and I immensely appreciate all your reviews. My muse ran low on ideas, and with the Holiday craziness I found it hard to write. I wanted to get one more chapter of nearly-fluff in before the Falling, and decide to elaborate on one of my truly favorite pieces of the entire book, that really went much un-exploited, and features one of my favorite poems, which fits in nicely. Warning: may be slightly lame, but I enjoyed it. This chapter will have mostly Numair's thoughts, because he is oh-so-yummy. Enjoy! 

Disclaimer: Don't shoot! I don't own any of it, and realize that my random musing in the form of fanfiction will never hold a candle to the actual books. Moreover, the poem is by Emily Dickinson, I didn't write that either. Consider this officially disclaimed.

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She sat with her knees tucked up to her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. A soft breeze blew her tousled curls, lifting and stirring them as gently as a puff of breath might. The oppressive heat of day had ebbed into the cool, comfortable warmth of early evening. The sun was on it's decent, the blue sky melting into a pale yellow, and from there to orange. In a matter of minutes it would take on a rosy hue. Her chin was lifted to the sky, her eyes transfixed on the endless colors; mesmerized.

He watched her with a similar expression on his face. His long legs were stretched out comfortably in front of him, and he rested his weight on his hands, which propped his body up. Unlike his student, his own eyes were fixed solely on her; made intensely dark by what anyone who chanced a glance at them would recognize as undiluted adoration. He studied every inch of her face, noticing each beloved feature. Her impossibly long lashes, fringing those soft blue-grey eyes, a single look from which would leave him breathless and weak, and chased away all scholarly thoughts from his mind. That proud, stubborn chin that symbolized all that she was inside; his willful, free spirited magelet. Her wonderfully full mouth was slightly opened, and he battled valiantly with himself to resist the though of moving closer to her, and taking her mouth up in his own. Forcing a deep breath of oxygen into his lungs, he tried desperately to slow his now pulsing heartbeat.

A few meters away, and profoundly oblivious to the intensity with which she was being observed, Daine stared in rapture at the sky. It had darkened into a deep rose color, and the sun cast a blindingly orange light out; one last remembrance before it finally would sink belong the horizon. Her heart lurched as she watched three dark shadows ascend into the sky. This is what she had been watching for.

"Numair!" She exclaimed excitedly. She turned abruptly to face him, in time to catch his eyes watching her face intently. His swarthy skin was stained crimson and a blush flashed up his neck and face. Was he _blushing_? But no, it must be the colors of the sunset, reflecting on him. For what could he have to blush about? Shaking the thought away, she flashed an elated smile at him. "Numair, look! In the sky! You see those birds? A skink showed me, back at Ma and Da's place. See them?"

He struggled to bring his mind back to the present. Curse it all, she'd seen him watching. What a fool she must think him now. Allowing himself to stare at her so in plain view was a sure sign of his weariness. And that _smile_...Gods above, if she had any idea what she did to him; the fire that raced through his veins at the slightest glance from her..._she would surely think you a perverted fool. At the very least, she'd think you were mad. You know cursed well she can never know. _He answered his own question ruthlessly, thrusting an iron nail through his heart as he did so. But wait, she was talking. And so animatedly, she was excited about something. Gods, she was beautiful. _No! Pay attention, or she'll have cause to think you insane! _As he struggled to bring his thoughts under control, and to focus on whatever had sparked her attention so, he followed her finger. She was pointing to the sky.

He too looked at the sky. She must be trying to show him something, and he would do anything to make her happy. To see her smile. But he must be careful with those smiles. They intoxicated his mind, and he might well lose sight of his resolve. Now then, the sky...but there was nothing in the sky. Just a brilliant red color, the sunsets were lovely here, but never more beautiful than his Magelet. What could she possibly be pointing at?

The confusion must have shown on his face, for the object of his heart's torment scooted over to him, pointing across him, up in the sky. If truth was known, she would admit that this was only and excuse to be close to him, though she did want him to see the birds. The three soaring shadows circled in the sky, and were quickly being joined by more. Now there were four...now five. She grinned up at him. "Don't you see them? There's five of them, they'll shoot colors in a minute. Numair _look_! Quickly, or you'll miss the colors soon!"

His heart drumming in his ears as she leaned across him to point at the sky. His mind fuzzed with warmth, as he caught her grin out of the corner of his eye. What was she talking about, shooting colors? Perhaps _she_ was the mad one...but there! Five birds soared, stretching impossibly long wings as they dipped and dove, floating on wind currents he could only imagine. "I see them, Daine! I see!" He was exuberant, so glad to be sharing in her happiness.

She laughed, and curled happily into his side, resting her chin on his shoulder as she watched the birds. How wonderful this was, being so close to him. But no, he would notice, and realize her affections were more than friendly. Their friendship would be strained and awkward, and that she couldn't bear. But, if he was disconcerted by her actions, why was he putting and arm around her, and shifting just slightly into a more comfortable position for the both of them? Surely, then, it couldn't bother him that much. She smiled, and nuzzled her face into his shoulder.

"Stop, Daine. I can't think when you do that." His voice was a soft murmur above her head. Gods bless it; his blood was racing enough without her tricks! Was she _trying_ to crack his resolve?

Her response was simple and straightforward, in true Daine fashion; "You don't need to be thinking now, dolt! Just watch the birds." Barely had the sentence escaped her lips than a burst of color erupted from the sky. The birds above let out joyful screech, as colorful flames exploded around them.

The two watched in undisguised awe for minutes, before his thoughts were pulled; not entirely unwillingly; from the aerial display. He turned his head slightly; to gaze at his Magelet, who was still entranced by the birds. He could not begin to fathom what had possessed her to decide to curl up against him like this; nor did he want to. He imagined it had some to do with the weariness of the war and wanderings; the loneliness of missing all her friends from back home. He watched as flashes of orange, red, and blue were reflected in her eyes, and was once again reminded painfully of how few and far between these few moments of peace were. He returned his gaze to the sky, watching as the last rays of sunlight slipped out of view, and the birds were once again dark shadows against the dusky sky. He smiled softly at his young student, as she nestled in comfortably against his side. Unbidden; the lines of a long forgotten poem rose to his mind.

_"Hope is the thing with feathers  
That perches in the soul,  
And sings the tune without the words,  
And never stops at all, _

_And sweetest in the gale is heard;  
And sore must be the storm  
That could abash the little bird  
That kept so many warm. _

_I've heard it in the chillest land,  
And on the strangest sea;  
Yet, never, in extremity,  
It asked a crumb of me."_

She must have felt him watching, for she turned her head up at him and smiled happily. "Beautiful, aren't they? The Skink showed me, before."

He returned the smile, and tried desperately to form a coherent sentence; that he might again feign at normal conversation. "Did you know, Magelet, that Hope is the thing with Feathers?" And indeed it was. They were nearing the Dragonlands, and would soon return to their home and friends, to fight the war that was already underway. Sitting under the quickly falling night, he could imagine that in the coming months, the battles would be over, and life could return to normal. And with his Adored tucked closely beside him, he could allow himself the fleeting, traitorous hope that she might one day return his love. It was as the poem said; Hope is the thing with Feathers.

Her only response was to laugh softly, used to these occasional glimpses of profound wisdom, and to rest her cheek upon his shoulder "If you say so, Numair."

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Authors Note: Again, really sorry about how long it took me to update, but I really had no plan for this chapter, and it was only about a week ago that I came up with the idea. The next chapter will probably be a scene around the time of Falling, but it won't happen without reviews!!


	6. Plummet

Black fire exploded, shattering bits of rock out of his way as he was finally dropped back to the ground. His hair whipped about his face, though there was little wind. His eyes were livid, terror-stricken, and his Gift was radiating off of him in fearful, wild rage; so frantic were his emotions. He stared and the place where she had been standing' where now there was a small bit missing from the edge, and a generally crumbled appearance to the area. His _Magelet_. He clenched his left hand so tightly around the locket that he could feel the edges cutting into his palm. He almost relished it, the feel of physical pain, the trivial sting that helped in a way to embody the torment that was lashing through him.

_Fool!_ His mind screamed in agony at him. _Did you not get done telling her, minutes earlier, that those rocks were unnatural? Indigenous, you said. Always the show-off for the pretty girl. _His mind left him no respite, taunted him cruelly with what hurt the most. After all, who better knows your weakness than your own cynic mind, and your own broken heart? _Did she not tell you that they were touched with Chaos? And you have to act the man, show her how cursed brave you are, not to fear the power of Chaos herself! And what does she do, when it all catches up with you, and you're left held aloft by the chaos stones? She falls off a God's-cursed cliff!_

A tormented moan escaped him as he fought desperately to think rationally. Maybe she shape-shifted, into a hawk, or an eagle? Maybe something with wings, that could fly and stop the fall? _And if she had, wouldn't she be up here now, soaring in the sky? She's down _there_, Numair, you miserable old fool. And how exactly would she survive that? _A strangled whimper, this time, and frantic eyes cast around him. He was absurdly reminded of the stray puppy he and Daine had found years ago, cornered in an alley of Corus, two street urchins hurling pebbles at it. The dog had followed Daine around pathetically for weeks afterwards until she found him a new home; crowding her feet so that she tripped over him every time she turned around. It struck Numair that frantic displays of emotion in traumatized times were not the only way he resembled that dog. _And don't you do the same, seeking out her company under the pretense of lessons, when well you know you have nothing left to teach her? Trailing at her heels like a contented love-struck puppy dog._

His left hand clenched tighter around the locket, grasping at what he had come to worship as a connection to his magelet. How many times in the past months had he gazed at the portrait, the wisp of hair; taking solace in the knowledge that he could always find her, if necessity demanded it.

Mithros, Mynos and Shakith. The _focus_! He cursed himself fluently, aided by the repeated self-loathing commentary he had become quite adept at since Midwinter, and demonstrated to new levels in the minutes since he had heard his student drop from the side of the cliff. He hastily opened the locket, grabbed the lock of hair, and poured his magic into it.

It began as a tugging sensation, channeling his magic through the focus, which was inevitably followed by a more forceful - and likewise, uncomfortable - pulling as the rest of him followed. His vision went bad, his ears roared. He was only partially aware of scenery flashing by at unimaginable speeds. Ahead, the endless blackness was beginning to thin, shifting closer to focus, when he stopped with a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach, followed by a wave of dizziness; which no doubt was caused by the sudden draining of his Gift.

Drawing a shaky breath, and attempting to steel himself for what he would find, he straightened his body and looked around him. Behind him, he could hear the rush of the river; he could see the thick woods that blanketed this area, and the eerie grey ropes, which he knew could only be spidren webs. And for all he had tried to prepare himself to what he would probably find, for all he had hoped against hope that by some miracle he would find her alive; he could not but feel his heart die in his chest when he saw the limp form in the webbing that could only be his Daine.

And it was then that he could feel the heavy weight of exhaustion and cold deadness of sorrow and grief being replaced by new emotions; rigid, fiery fury; the need to cause equal, greater pain and suffering to whomsoever had inflicted him this loss, whoever had _dared_ touch his Magelet. His dark eyes snapped with crackling rage, his livid anger helping to gather and magnify what remained of his Gift. He would find someone to pay for this. Yes, she had fallen off a cliff under his watch, but he would sooner swallow Alanna's sword than allow her to be devoured by spidrens.

The targets of his anger presented themselves quite nicely. Three spidrens were gathering around the pile in the webs, gloating, it appeared. Raising his staff, he gave a yell and directed a shot of black fire at the first of the spidrens; more than was strictly needed, true, but it gratified him to see the smoking, charred remains; to hear the agonized screech as the creature declared its defiance to the being that had killed it.

However, for all the extravagant death did to satisfy his rage; the man now found himself utterly drained. When the two remaining spidrens approached to avenge their comrade, he was forced to beat one of with his staff, not resting until the body bore no resemblance to it's former shape, and rather looked like rank, rotten fruit left out in the Carthaki sun. A glance at the other immortal told him that it too was dead, compliments of the Darkings. _Curse them, that was _mine _to kill!_ He though darkly, before remembering that Daine was their friend too. And as just as suddenly and violently as it had appeared, the fierce rage and need for revenge receded, and he was once again swamped by the painful emptiness.

His grief swept over him in a wave, making him weak, and he leaned against his staff. Oh Gods. Now what? He could scarcely remember the time when he did not have her by his side. What had it been like, not seeing her dancing blue eyes everyday, or having her tease him, or call him out when he deserved it? How had he stayed alive as long as he had without her watching his back? And how many times had she saved his life? More than he cared to admit, for certain.

How would he remember the simple, important things, without her practical, clear sense to pull him out of his scholarly musings? It was her alone that tied his feet to the ground, drawing his head out of the clouds...And Cloud! And all of her animal friends! What would he tell them? How would he ever face them, telling them he'd lost their friend? She meant as much to them as she did to him, and they wouldn't understand how, but they'd surely understand the result. Daine was gone.

Oh, Gods. His Daine was _gone_. And he'd never told her. She'd never known he loved her. He'd never told her how important she was to him, how much he leaned on her strength and unwavering resolve, on her clear-cut understanding of good and bad, of truth that was worth fighting for, worth dying for. He'd never showed her how much she'd changed from the scared, confused child of Snowsdale who had saved him when he was a hawk. He'd never really explained how wrong the court gossips were who told her she was nothing more than a common bastard, covered in animal dung, to boot, and how much he truly meant what he'd told her in Carthak; how beautiful she'd become, and how men would be fighting for her hand.

_I never told her I loved her._ Given the chance, would he now? Part of him argued that she was still so young, so naive, that telling her would be to trap her. But an ever growing part of him insisted that it would be better for her to know, rather than to be misled. For a moment, he allowed himself to be swept away by grief, just imagining her face, remembering the way she always flushed scarlet when complimented or paid attention, the way her mouth moved and her voice sounded when she said his name...

"_Numair?_" Oh, Goddess, his heart ached with remembering. Her voice had sounded so real, he half imagined that he could turn around, and find her standing there. "_Please, are you alright?_" But where had that come from? He hadn't imagined that, surely? Swallowing the dread in his stomach; the last shred of self preservation that was trying to guard against any more hurt; he dropped his staff and turned around.

There she stood, in all her glory; tattered clothing that hung in torn and bloodied strips, angry red welts and scratches adorned every inch of her, accompanied by already visible purple bruises. Gods above, she had never looked so beautiful.

He had never before understood exactly what she had felt in Carthak; what had so devastated her upon seeing him alive. How could she possibly have thought him an apparition? At this moment, he understood with only too much clarity. His mind swirled and churned, grasping at straws that perhaps, by some miracle, she was really there.

He said something, though afterwards he would never be able the remember what. It was a struggle to form articulate words, let alone a comprehensive thought, and he did not doubt that his sentiments betrayed his desperation, his confused emotions. "_You, you're...alive...I thought..._"

"_I hurt too much to be dead_." It was that sentence; spoken with such simple, practical truth, yet so reassuring because it was something only Daine would say; that finally cracked through his fragile shell of grief. He reached out and pulled her desperately to him. And when she lifted her blue grey eyes to his, he could no longer resist covering her mouth with his own.

His head rang with the sweet intensity of the kiss, and his heart hammered through his veins. With sudden certainty, he knew that he would never again be able to go back to the platonic teacher-friend he had been before. Not after tasting the softness of her lips, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his, never mind that now there would be no denying to her his true affections. For just a moment, he allowed himself to let go, to savor the fact that his magelet was alive, here, in his arms, _bruised, mangled, and now assaulted by her teacher. Let her go, now that you've ruined everything! _He pulled away reluctantly, in part because he was loathe to so soon break away from the kiss he had for so long imagined, but in part because of the dread of what he might see on her face; horror, repulsion?

The one thing he had not expected was desire matching his own. "_No_" she had whispered, before pulling him closer. Would she never cease to surprise him? It wasn't right, but she had certainly made her wishes clear. No longer able to do anything else, he obliged her. Covering her lips gently with his own, this time; he kissed her softly, sweetly, needing to show her how much he loved her. He kissed her until he felt her become limp and heavy in his arms, until he felt his own desire become almost too much to bear. He pulled away again, before scooping her up into his arms, willing to pretend for the moment that she was his to love, to seize the moment of her seeming acceptance to show her how dear she was.

Later that afternoon, he placed her sleeping figure down in the cave. Bent down over her, he lingered, reluctant to let go. In sleep, it was only the more apparent how much worse of wear she was. Bruises and gashes stood out angrily against pale skin, and in many places dried blood adorned her assortment of cuts. He was reminded painfully of how close he had come to loosing her. Brushing a stray curl out of her face, he kissed her forehead gently, lips whispering over her brow. "_Love you, Magelet_."

He knew that when she woke, things would be different. He had broken his resolve, and acted on his emotions. It was bound to happen sooner or later, he knew, and it was right that she knew. But already his heart shriveled at the thought that he may have lost his friendship. He was not sure what he would find when she woke. What would he see, reflected in those endless skies of blue? He sighed, and moved away from her, ready to take a rest of his own. She would wake soon enough, and he would face the consequences. And there would be consequences, he was certain. But for now, she was alive. And that was enough.


	7. Consequences

**Chapter Seven--Consequences**

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Authors Note: I'm really and truly sorry about how long this took to get up, honestly, I've had a hard time writing these last two chapters, mainly because they had to fit in with the details in the books. This one had me loosing interest so many times, I wrote it literally sentence by sentence, sentence by days. In any case, I'm very glad you all seemed to enjoy my last chapter, against my initial predictions! Thank you all very much for your reviews and your patience, your compliments make my day! This next chapter features some agnst on Numair's part, frustration on Daine's, my first shot at writing fluff, and some nice Numair philosophy. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. The sections that are quotes from the book were quoted exclusively from memory; I don't have access to the books, (although I've just about memorized them). All characters, setting, plot, etc. belong to the Most High Authoress Tamora Pierce, which you should all know by now.

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He sat a ways off from their campsite; needing the space, needing to think. He had slept fitfully last night, and woken early. His Magelet was still asleep in her bedroll, accompanied by many of the animal Gods who had taken to keeping her company when they stopped to rest. He leaned back against a rock pillar--a true rock, not a Chaos-rock--and closed his eyes. Their discussion after Daine had awoken had done little to appease his worries, in truth; they only increased them.

_"Do you love me, or not?"_ She had asked. Goddess bless, after all that, and she still had not realized! He had drained up every _ounce_ of his power to reach her, bludgeoned her would-be killers until they resembled the over-ripe melon that Kit had once knocked off the table, and _kissed_ her until he had felt her go weak in his arms. He had shown her his focus, she'd seen the portrait he'd had made, he'd kissed her and held her close and all but spelled it out for her, how could she not know it? But no. Exactly what he feared.

_"We're not talking about love? What are we talking of, then? Canoodling?" _Surely, she knew him better than that. _But then,_ his mind argued_, what would any girl in her shoes think?_ Anyone at all, for that matter. He was her teacher, her friend, mentor, call it what you will; he was 14 years her elder, in a position of responsibility regarding her welfare. She was 16 years old, for Mithros's sake! And there wasn't a soul in Tortall who didn't know of his...past affairs...with every eligible lady at court. And yet, for all he had made that case against his heart time and time again since Midwinter, it had done nothing to dull the pain of the blow when he heard it from her own beloved lips.

_And yet_, whispered that faintest flicker of hope, _she seemed to change her mind about_ that _fairly quickly_. Of course, his Magelet was no fool. He knew _that_ better than anyone. In fact, she had swung from one of his worst fears, to the other, in only a matter of minutes.

_"I know I love you. Maybe I always have..."_ And it was perhaps the wording of that phrase more even than the content, that convinced him she was misled. For well he knew that she could not have always loved him. He himself was unsure of when his love for her began, where it changed from curiosity, to trust, to friendship, where exactly that last bend where his feelings shifted to the less platonic emotions of desire and overpowering love; but he knew it was not forever. If Daine truly thought she had loved him forever, she had to be mistaken. They were friends. Close friends, yes, but there was a painful distinction between friendship and love. Which only solidified what his conscience had been taunting his heart with for months; she simply did not know what love was. It was wrong to allow her to believe herself in love wit him, when he knew that truly, she could not be. He would not dissuade his dearest magelet into a relationship with him, even if the cost was his own heart.

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Daine awoke to find a small bird perched near her head. It was small and dusky-colored, with the small, sharp beak of a finch. She didn't recognize the markings, and was content to assume that the bird was simply one she had never encountered in the mortal realms. _Hello, wing sister! You have slept long, and your Storkman was beginning to worry!_ The bird happily announced. _The sun is already risen high, you will have missed morning meal._ The bird spoke in a gently chastising tone, and Daine knew that birds considered it far better to rise early, and catch breakfast before the rest of the world had yet awoken. _Though,_ the bird interrupted_, if our nestlings had taken a fall as you did, they might be allowed to sleep late too._

The brown haired girl laughed and sat up, wincing inwardly as she did so. Her body was stiff and sore, and she felt as though she had been trampled by a herd of mountain ponies. She offered her hand to the bird as a perch, and smiled at the little creature. "_And I am certain I will bear the marks of that fall for a time to come, if my bruises are anything to judge by._"

The bird rustled it's feathers, and ran its beak through the girl's unruly curls. _Then next time you should be more careful_. Her logic was undisputable. That was one of the things Daine most appreciated about animals; they said was they meant, without any of the niceties humans tended to make use of. _Go now, your Storkman is worrying. He has given us all a headache with his heavy thoughts. Go talk to him, please_.

At this, the young woman couldn't help but grin. She knew better than anyone how her lanky mage could induce headaches with his scholarly musings and theories, always over-willing to share knowledge with an unsuspecting listener. It was one of the traits that made him who he was, and she loved him for it. But her sympathy did go out the People-Gods who had borne the burden of overhearing his thoughts, when he wasn't even aware he was doing it. Her thoughts already brightened at the thought of seeing her Mage, she hastened out of her bedroll in search of him.

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"Numair?' She caught sight of him leaning dejectedly against a large bolder, and took her own seat beside him. "What are you thinking of? The People-Gods say you've given them all a fair headache with your heavy thinking."

He was acutely aware of her settling herself besides him, far too close for him to be able to think of anything else; not that he would be anyways. Now that his mind had been decided, he could scarcely breathe for the dread and sorrow in his heart. He knew he would have to explain to her why this could not go on. And any way he said it, she would be hurt, which pained him fore than even the thought of losing her. If she was happy; he would find a way to be alright with it. But she wouldn't be, and he knew it. She appeared happy now...would it not be better to leave her in her blissful ignorance? Why should he try to convince her that she was not in love with him, if she was happy in her belief that she was? _Because that would be trickery, and I will not do that to any woman, and certainly not to Daine! _He sighed unhappily, and ran a hand through his long hair. "Daine..."

Oh, Mithros, how in all the realms does a man tell the woman he loves more than life itself, that _she_ doesn't love him? Perhaps, perhaps he could pretend that it was he who had changed his mind, and no longer desired her? Even as the thought entered his mind, he knew he couldn't do it. He could not bear to lie to her, and doubted he could, in any case. Sadness washed over him, and he knew that she was waiting. "Magelet, sweet; you don't love me."

Almost immediately, the concerned look she wore on her face disappeared, to be replaced with one of relief, followed by one of incredulous confusion. "What do you mean, I don't love you! That's fair ridiculous, Numair. I said I did, didn't I?" _What in the name of all the Gods is he fretting over now? I swear, for such a smart man, he does come up with the most foolish of worries_.

And how he wished for her words, spoken with such conviction, to be true. But they weren't, as he had known they never could be; all those months he'd spent hashing this argument over in his own mind. It was only made all the more painful to be re-arguing it with her.

She must have seen the disbelief on his face, for she rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Numair, of all the God's cursed _stupid_ things...I said I loved you, and I meant it! Out of anyone I've ever met in my entire life, you're the only one I trusted enough to tell you my past, the only one who I believed when you said I had magic, you've been my best friend for almost four years! Curse it, Numair; I tore down an entire _palace_ when I thought you were dead! You mean more to me than anyone in all the Realms, and I'd follow you to the Black God's Gate if it came to that! Horse Lords, Numair, if that's not love than you tell me where I'm mistaken!"

Later, he would swear that his jaw had dropped straight off his face. He knew that his Magelet had a stubborn, prideful streak; it was one of the things he most adored about her; she held firm to her opinions, woe to whoever stood in her way. He had spent months of heartache convincing himself that he could not have her, could never hold her close and taste those sweet lips. He had spend torturous nights convincing himself that he would never be the man who could dance as long as he liked with her at balls, who would walk with her into the gardens with the moon shining down, who would later accompany her to her rooms, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear...

And later, he would explain all this to her, as he held her small hand in his own and led her through the forest after they had counted all the stars in the sky. But now, as he took in the fierce glint in her eyes, her proudly lifted chin, the set of her stubborn jaw, he noticed something he had not seen before. Beneath the indignation and anger, he saw that she was hurt by his disbelief, and that shook him clear out of his reverie. Though he knew he was only trying to protect her, to look out for her own well-being; in the end he had hurt her, and that was unacceptable.

With a sigh, he reach over and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Burying his face in her hair, her kissed the top her head. "Daine...Sweeting, I'm sorry."

Frowning indignantly, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Oh, so you believe me now, you ridiculous dolt?"

He chuckled softly and kissed her hair, the tip of her ear, just behind her jawbone. "Magelet, my sweet, my conscience is no match for you. I give in."

She melted under his kisses; she knew she would. It was impossible to stay mad at him, and it always had been. Even when she had first met him, and thought he was mocking her for not having the Gift, she remembered their absurd conversation about hair ties. He was always like that, very kind and sweet...even to a bastard born Gallan girl-child...and he was her best friend in the world, and she loved him more than she could hardly believe. She shivered as his lips brushed and lingered behind her jawbone, winding her arms around his neck and ran her fingers though his hair; the nearness of his lips making her dizzy with desire. "Numair, your conscience can take a hike, for all I'm concerned." She whispered into his ear, leaning her head against his.

He clenched his teeth together, forcing himself not to give in to her request; a feat that was becoming increasingly difficult as her fingernails ran through his hair, brushing against his scalp. He could become lost in the sweetness of her skin, the soft weight of her in his arms...but he couldn't continue this. Not now, like this. "Oh, but my magelet, if I allowed my conscience to take a hike, we might find ourselves in a rather compromising position. He kissed her forehead, and rested his chin atop her curls. They remained like that for several minutes, safe in the knowledge that, at least for the moment, they were loved in return.

"Love, we'd really best get going." His voice was quiet, and he didn't bother to conceal the regret that ran through it in heavy undertones. "We have a war to fight, remember. And now we have a path to locate as well."

She was silent for a moment longer, and he began to fear that she'd fallen asleep again. When she did speak, her voice was soft. "When will it end, Numair? It's been months since we've had peace and quiet; even here we're fighting for our lives and for the war. When will things go back to normal? And what if..." She didn't have to say it. They both knew. What if they lost? What if, after all this, Chaos and Ozorne still won? What if, in the midst of all the fighting, they lost each other, or one of their other friends? They'd both lost so many who were dear to them already, and they'd only just found this new thing between them; it couldn't end now. But it could. And it might.

His reply was gentle and hesitant, betraying his own misgivings. "I don't know, sweet. No one does. We fight because we have to, because we believe our cause is just, and worth fighting for. Because if we don't fight, and the world dissolves to Chaos, none of this;" He stroked her cheek gently, and kissed her nose. "not us, not our friends, or all the lives in all the Realms; will matter anymore." He sighed, and pulled her close. "And it _kills_ me, Daine, to know that you could be hurt in all this. That I've just gotten you, and you could be taken away from me." His voice was choked with emotion, and she wrapped her own slender arms around him in a tight embrace of her own.

"S'alright, Numair. We'll be alright, the both of us. We always are." She kissed his cheek, and looked him in the eye, her stubborn jaw set. "And I'm not going anywhere. Ever." She was relieved to see him smile slightly, and return her kiss. "Now then, I s'pose we'd best find the path."

Her handsome, lanky teacher kissed her swiftly one last time before lurching to his feet, the girl still in his arms. Placing her gently on her feet, he cupped her chin in one large hand. "I love you, my Magelet. And I'm glad I can finally tell you." His student simply smiled cheekily, shifted into a starling, and pecked him on his long nose.

* * *

Authors Note: So, what'd'ya think of my first shot at writing fluff? I rather prefer writitng agnst, though the fluff was fun, I'll admit. This may or may not be the last addition to this story. It certainly will be if no one suggests another chapter, as I'm fresh out of ideas. I have a few more stories in mind, (mostly all one shots or collections of such, as this one is, because I lack the imagination and dedication to come up with a decent plot.) Again, I really appreciate all your reviews and kind words, Once I've decided whether this is the end of the story, I shall post a page thanking you all individually, because I know I have neglected that! Please review!


	8. Impossible

**Chapter Eight--Impossible**

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Authors Note: God, I'm awful, and horrible, and just a terrible, worthless human being, I know, and I'm so sorry, I had NO IDEA it had been this long since I last posted anything! I've been ungodly busy, and I _know_ it's no excuse, and I'm _SO SORRY_, I hope this chapter makes up for it! This story will finally be completed! *cheers!* Anyway, since it's been so long, I know my writing style has changed, and I hope it's still okay to read. In this chapter you can look forward to: a last shot of Numair agnst, a scene featuring a round-about blessing from CLoud and Onua (seperatley), and quite a lot of fluff! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Alrght, dramatic sigh. IT'S NOT MINE. None of it. Well, just the writing and the ideas, but not the character! Come on, we all know this by now...

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Flashes of color bloomed in the sky; twisting, writhing masses of red and black, both sides fighting for dominance. At times it seemed that one power was winning out over the other, but such scarce leads never lasted for long. Such a desperate battle had been raging for several hours, and both sides grew weary. The battle was viewed from miles away, until the red fire was suddenly engulfed by black, and both powers vanished. The change was observed by many concerned, but not by the one most concerned. Somewhere miles away, a golden eagle was seen flying after a lone stormwing.

....

The tall mage collapsed against an old tree, sinking to the ground in his exhaustion. He was all but drained, and bone weary. The man sighed, and thought about how lovely it would be to rest, to drift into a deep, dreamless sleep and not wake up for a good, long while. As he entertained these thoughts, his eyes drifted shut and his muscles relaxed. Just on the brink of slumber, his hand happened to brush upon an ornate bracelet, closing around a small locket. His eyes flew open.

"Daine," the words were a hoarse whisper, barely audible but to the man that spoke them. His weariness briefly forgotten, the mage took stock of his power reserve, only to find it nearly empty. _Ah well_, he thought. _As long as it's not entirely drained, for now_… His left hand flicked open the locket and wrapped gently, reverently, around the small curl of smoky brown hair inside. Bringing the locket briefly to his lips, he breathed deeply before wrapping his other hand around the head of his staff; amplifying the little power he had remaining. Whispering softly into the focus, he conjured in the air a small, fuzzy image.

_It showed an unfamiliar place, and a torrent of seagulls flying away. In the center was his beloved in her human form, bare, obviously drained and at the ends of her strength. Beside her sat the stormwing, his many braids tangled and unraveling, also clearly fatigued. As he watched, the stormwing sneered, mouthed silent words, and walked forward._

Horrified, the mage hastily ended the image. His breathing came ragged as a desperate, strangled sob racked his body. His Daine…she couldn't possibly…but he had seen them. He had seen the look in her face, and on his. She was _out_, she had nothing left. And they both knew it. In a desperate battle to the death, in her condition, against a steel-bladed stormwing, what hope did she have? His mind refused to answer this question, but by the sickening clenching of his gut he knew the truth. A fight like that would be impossible to win.

He leaned back heavily against the tree, closing his eyes tightly as if to wish the world away. _I loved her_, he thought. _No, I_ love _her_. _That will never go away_. And with astonishment, he had another thought, which perhaps should have occurred to him long ago. _And she loved me_._ We would have been_ happy _together_. Of course he would realize this too late. Of course he would finally see the truth, which his Magelet had tried so desperately to show him, only after the time had passed to act on it. _I would have married her_, he thought in agony.

And it was to these tortured thoughts that he finally sank into an exhausted slumber, wishing for all the world that he would be left there to sleep forever, and never have to wake again to face the world without his Magelet.

....

It was many hours later that the sound of passing hoof beats woke him. Almost hoping that the rider was of the enemy, to quickly dispatch him so that he could return to his rest and to his love, he voiced this request to his visitor.

When he heard her voice, his heart stopped short. "_Daine?_"

* * *

When they rode back to Corus, he doubled up with her on Cloud, his arms wrapped around her as she leaned back contentedly into his chest. The pony had agreed to carry them both at Daine's request, and to him, it felt like her blessing. He was glad to have met the approval of at least one of Daine's closest friends, but as Daine had always told him, horses have good sense. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, and fought the urge to fall asleep. Something told him that Cloud would not take kindly to him falling off her back do to taking a nap.

....

It was much later that night, after all the castle had finally gone to their rest, that the lanky mage found him self in his own large bed at last. His eyes were closed and for once, his mind was at peace, deep in slumber. But as the fates would have it, he slept for only short hours before a knock sounded at the door.

"Numair! Num-- oh, for the love of--" A frustrated and disheveled Onua burst noisily into his rooms, shaking him rudely out of his long awaited rest.

"Onu'?" was all he managed at the time, blinking heavy, sleep laden eyes and lifting one hand to his forehead. "What in the name of _all_ the Gods Onua...I swear by Mithros, woman, whatever caused you to wake me had better be important, or I'll--"

"Daine." came the one-worded answer, and the short K'mir watched smugly as the all-powerful mage shut his mouth so hard that she _heard_ it. _So I was right after all_, she thought, remembering the way her two friends had ridden all the way back to Corus, half asleep in each other's arms, Numair's chin resting atop the girl's head. A startled look of panic spread over his face. "Relax, Storkman, your girl is fine. Poor lass is just having a nightmare, but she woke the entire barracks with her shouts. She kept calling _your_ name though," she paused, enjoying the way his dark eyes shifted uncomfortably, "So I thought I'd do us all a favor and bring her mage to her, so we can _all_ rest peacefully."

The tall man lurched unsteadily out of bed and quickly followed the shorter woman to his adored. His heart broke to see her so frantic, twisting in her sleep with sweat dampening her hair, her voice crying out in terror. _"No! Numair!"_

"Shhh...sweetling, I'm here...you're alright, it's okay, shhh...my darling, everything's fine..." He knelt near the bed, stroking her hair back from her face with on large hand while the other lifted her own hand to his lips. "Hush, dearest heart, you're okay, it's a dream, my sweet magelet, only a dream..." Part of him would later be surprised at the ease with which the endearments came from his mouth, but he supposed that his heart had been calling her these things for many months. At his whispered reassurances, the girl quickly calmed, murmuring something incoherent and wrapping her small, slender fingers around his.

"Numair...stay here with me." Her voice was small and cracked with screaming and sleep, but still brought a smile to his lips. Belatedly remembering the presence of the other woman, he turned around in panic.

A laughing smile upon her face, the K'mir woman winked mischievously. "Sleep well, Storkman. Behave yourself and let the girl rest some, or I'll send the ponies after you." Ignoring the man's blush and indignant mumbled response, she shut the door firmly behind herself.

"Please, Numair? Please don't go, stay here, just for tonight?" And he could never deny her anything, let alone _that_, so he climbed into bed beside her, wrapping her slender frame with his long arms and pulling her gently against him, dropping a light kiss to her forehead.

And it was like this that the mage finally, finally found his rest, with his love resting in his arms; the soft, warm weight of her helping to convince his worried heart that she was safe, his, and very much alive.

* * *

They walked together in the garden, hands clasped discreetly. It was the first time they had managed to escape alone all evening, as the celebratory ball droned ever on. It had taken days for life to return to normal, and they had both been kept busy helping to clean up after the fighting. Eventually growing weary of watching every red blooded man in the palace drool after her all evening, he had politely, or so he thought, interrupted her dance to inquire if she might enjoy a walk in the garden, for some fresh air.

He had to admit, he took a secret pleasure in being the man to escort her from the ballroom, one hand possessively resting on his lady's waist as they exited. It was one of the many small, but nonetheless symbolic, actions that he had so envied of the numerous and anonymous young men in the past. Daine left the dance with _him_, walked – alone - through the gardens with _him_, and sat on the bench in the moonlight with _him_. And as he conjured a white rose from the air, playfully pulling it from behind her ear before presenting it to her, he could not have been happier.

She wore a dress of deep russet, adorned with copper ribbons that gathered the fabric tight about her waist and chest, before allowing it to cascade freely to the ground. Thayet had chosen the dress, and he had to admit it was a good decision, the color highlighting her hair and her wonderfully creamy skin. She had used a sparing amount of makeup to hide the few bruises that remained, and it had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed not to thrash every would-be-suitor who had followed her with his eyes tonight. Yes, she was beautiful, beyond beautiful. And she was _his_.

"You know, my Magelet, I never thought I would get to do this." He spoke the words lightly, but there was a reverent undertone in his soft voice that made her look up.

"Do what, Numair? Pull things out from behind my ear? You've done that since I met you." Her own voice was teasing, though her eyes were serious as she looked at him in curiosity. "But you don't just mean the rose, do you? You mean something else, something bigger."

He looked at her with a gentle smile, seeing that he had worried her a bit. He lifted her chin with one hand and kissed her mouth tenderly. "Mmm…bigger, yes. And so much better, Daine. Just, all of _this_. I never thought I would be able to leave the dance with you to walk in the night, or give you flowers, or…kiss you and hold your hand. I thought it was something impossible."

She laughed softly into his mouth, kissing him again before answering. "Silly man. You should know better than anyone by now, there's no such thing as impossible. Most people would tell you it's impossible to talk to animals. They'd tell you it's impossible to talk treason against the used-to-be Carthaki Emperor and live. I used to think it was impossible to move on, after the bandits and after running mad with wolves. I thought, at first, that Tortall was impossible, because no real place could be so wonderful." She snorted a brief laugh before grinning. "Horse Lords, Numair, most people thing Krakens and skinners are impossible, but we both know them wrong, don't we?"

He grinned and pressed his forehead against hers, excitedly continuing her speech. "Impossible to go to the divine realms and come back, impossible to fly with dragons, impossible to ally with stormwings, impossible you're alive, impossible you love me back…" He moved his head so that it was right next to hers, his mouth brushing lightly against her ear. "Magelet, my sweet, I _love_ impossible."

And the tickling of his lips against her ear and the heat of his words sent her into shivers as she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly before resting her head on his shoulder. "Me too, Numair. Impossible's one of my favorite things."

They sat like that for quite a while, the light of the stars shining softly on them as they relaxed together in happiness for the first time in months. They would have gone on sitting for much longer undoubtedly if he hadn't heard her stifled yawn and smiled tenderly at her. "Well then, sweet, you'd best get your rest. It's been an exhausting week for all of us. Off to bed with you, my darling Magelet."

And she had smiled back, albeit a bit more mischievously, and kissed his neck, ear, nose, mouth, before whispering "Only if you come with me, Numair. I might have nightmares elsewise."

He had to swallow hard before finding his voice and lurching to his feet. "Accompanying you to your bed; another thing I thought I'd never get to do, but that I am very, _very_ glad that I do." And she shivered happily as he wrapped his hands around her waist, drawing her close before covering her mouth in a long, deep kiss that felt _impossibly_ good.

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Authors Note:

Well, that's it! I'm finally done! I'm so sorry it took me so long, but I really hope you enjoyed it! I had almost forgotten how much I enjoyed writing, and am glad to have done it again, (although this time probably could have been better spent studying for exams tomorrow...) Please review, I have another sotry in mind and want to update Sunshine soon with another chapter, so please tell me what you think and how my writing can be improved, you'll make my day so much brighter!


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